


Love and Honor

by kaybeez



Series: Love and Honor [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Royalty, Anal Sex, Bottom Sam, Bottom Sam Winchester, Butt Plugs, Dean just likes sex with his brother, Hurt Sam Winchester, King Dean Winchester, M/M, Non-Consensual Touching, Not by Dean, Protective Dean Winchester, Spanking, There is a plot I promise, Top Dean, Underage Sex, Wincest - Freeform, and spanking I guess, belly bulge, sam is fifteen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-01
Updated: 2016-11-01
Packaged: 2018-08-28 10:31:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,572
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8442376
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kaybeez/pseuds/kaybeez
Summary: Prince Sam of the House of Winchester knows that there’s a war going on. It’s been going on since he can remember, their father typically absent and fighting in battles that take place on the other side of the continent. Suddenly the war gets a hell of a lot closer with the news of King John’s unexpected death, Dean suddenly thrust into the spotlight and crowned King which is the last thing they needed considering their less than traditional relationship. At fifteen Sam can’t do a lot but he will do everything in his power to keep himself and his brother together and protect the Winchester name. Wars, suitors, and kidnappers be damned.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So this was done for the Wincest Big Bang 2016
> 
> Giant thanks to my amazing artist Amber and the gorgeous banner she did despite tech malfunctions. You're a star! 
> 
> Art -[Bluefire986](http://bluefire986.livejournal.com/)

 

* * *

 

 Sam Winchester was of Royal Blood.

He had claim to the vast acreage of land that made up Campbell, its capital Winchester and command over the thousands of citizens that inhabited it. In the event of his Father’s untimely -but much expected- death, he would be in line for the crown second only to his elder brother. He was pampered by servants and protected by the most skilled knighthood known to any nation inside the beautiful and fortified castle of his great grandfather’s design.

He had power, influence, and luxury. What Sam didn’t have, however, was freedom.

“Quiet,” He murmured to his horse, keeping both himself and his animal close to the stone wall of the south tower as he peeked out to scan the gate for guards. The bell tower started to chime and like obedient dogs, the guards started to walk toward the canteen, the clanking of their armor fading as they disappeared around the corner. As flawed as it was, the guards returning from lunch tended to take their sweet time which left a period of about five minutes where only the gate boy was left in his post. Sam abused this mercilessly.

Quickly, he grabbed the reins of his horse and lead her over to the gate, adjusting the loose fitting servants clothing he’d stolen from the laundry. “Jacob,” He smiled, the young boy only a few years younger than him. Quickly he handed over a hastily wrapped moleskin package, a turkey leg and piece of fresh bread hidden inside the layers. The food bought the boy’s silence as well as kept him in good health as having an easily swayed gate boy was beneficial to the young prince. The package delivered he quickly went through the large entrance, the glinting points of their triple layered gate seeming to wink at him but he paid it no mind as he made his way to freedom.

…

“And now if I could bring your attention to the agricultural region of Versot … “

Dean stifled a yawn into the side of his robe, eyes glazed as he stared at the large painted map pinned up to the stone wall in front of the advisory table. The gentleman speaking was from one of the six territories that made up Campbell, with the capital Winchester the crowning jewel of the country as well as the envy of their surrounding nations. Apparently, Versot wasn’t producing enough corn or beans or something which Dean couldn’t care less about. The answer to these kind of trivial problems was always the same; break even with their own excess. They’d simply supply the demand from other territories with whatever surplus and ship it over. However, in order for such a large process to begin it had to first be approved by the advisory board as well as a royal figure which meant Dean had to sit in on these meetings when his father was absent in battle, which was almost always since his mother had passed. The situation seemed to be escalating as the current war between Campbell and Azazel’s Impyerno seemed to be reaching a crescendo. Instead of the frequent lapses in large scale battles which allowed King John to return to Winchester over the past eleven years, the fight seemed to be getting closer to the capital and more bloody than ever before.

“Your Highness?”

Dean blinked back into focus, realizing that they were waiting on an approval from him while he had slipped into his own thoughts. He chastened himself, a good leader could be bored all he liked in these meeting but he did not allow such matters to interfere or for the advisers to know his position on the matter without discussion. “Approved,” He said in his deep gruff that meant serious business, hoping to quickly bridge over his lapse in attention and move onto the next order.

It was more important than ever for Dean to take these things seriously. He wasn’t an idiot; he knew what was coming. As first born and heir to the birthright he was first in line to inherit the throne to the glorious nation that was Campbell, and Winchester would become his capital like his father and grandfather before him. King John was not likely to last after the final battle had been won, and Dean had no doubt they would win, but his father had made his entire existence depend on killing Azazel and burning Imyerno to ashes. He had no purpose in his mind other than to fight and extract revenge for Mary’s death. Dean was very familiar with the stories of old warriors who survived the most terrible of battles only to come home and die in their sleep from lack of purpose. The alternative was the King would go about finding his own trouble, picking fights and riling up other nations to the point of an intercontinental war and Dean wasn’t going to allow that. He had worked too hard on this kingdom for John to simply show up and run it into the ground after years of absence. For even now Dean saw it as his kingdom despite not wearing the king’s crown. John had been in and out on a more consistent basis when Dean was younger, though most of It was in training. John was the most skilled warrior in all of Campbell, maybe even in all the nations, and he personally taught his sons the skills he deemed important. Dean’s swordsmanship had no match, and could equally hold his own in hand to hand and a crossbow. As soon as Dean’s fifteenth birthday passed though, John started to leave for longer stretches of time, so long that the kingdom couldn’t function. So as a matter of practicality, Dean took the throne as Standing Prince at the age of fifteen, essentially allowing him to perform the basics of political tasks in the King’s name to keep the country running, John able to do the rest from his war tent with several messengers always active between the battlegrounds to make delivery and communication as fast as two days. While his princely duties kept him occupied, Dean wanted to improve and lead Campbell into a new age, things he couldn’t do until he took the throne. Despite all his preparations, the thought of leading a nation and one as powerful as Campbell still completely scared him, but Dean knew his place and life and his destiny as Standing Prince. It was an honor and a responsibility that he did not take lightly.

“I beg your pardon, Sire.” A nervous voice said as a servant peaked his head into the advisory room. Dean frowned at the interruption but waved his hand to allow him to continue. “It well- It seems as if the Prince has run away again.”

…

Sam grinned as he pressed his heels into the stir ups of his horse, shifting his weight up to feel the rush of wind against his face as he rode. “Faster” He laughed, nudging his heels to speed up the beautiful speckled mare he’d stolen from the stables. It was so easy to sneak out unnoticed, simply nick some of the servant clothes from the laundry before sneaking into the stables and grabbing the least attended horse. At fourteen, Sam was a wild and restless as any town child. The only difference was that his tutors and the advisers wanted to lock him up instead of letting him run free. It was completely ridiculous and as much as Sam loved his studies, making him do it for twelve hours a day was not something he could support. So like any good oppressed citizen under a monarchy- he rebelled.

Sam’s grin widened when he spotted the open field next to the small country town in the distance. Winchester was large and beautiful but the main site to see was capital which Sam had purposely avoided. No use heading to the immediate city under the castle and getting caught by guards before he could see anything of interest. Besides, there was something charming about Stanford. The warm sun that seemed to stay out an extra hour, the slowness and ease to which the people lived their lives, the lack of care for the trivial things that ruled Sam’s life. It was beautiful and if it weren’t for his brother Sam would be running away here permanently.

“Sam!’ Brady smiled, waving at the boy when he saw the familiar mop of brown hair on the fast approaching horse. “We’re about to start a game!”

Sam grinned as he brought the mare to a halt before tying her to a tree to graze, immediately running over to join in the fun. He’d been coming to Stanford since last year and had made some wonderful friends who simply believed he lived with his brother deep in the forest on small farm.

The field had about six boys in it with one of them holding up a large leather skin that he was wrapping around what seemed to be a watermelon. “Don’t kick too hard or the fruit breaks.” Brady warned him as they spread out across the meadow when the ball was done. Moments later they were kicking the large ball back and forth, laughing as they tried to see how far and high they could kick it before the fruit broke, several watermelons off to the side to replace the ball whenever it exploded in a mess of sweet pink fruit. As the sun started to dip lower in the sky, the teenagers collapsed into the soft grass and ate pieces of watermelon, the boys all discussing the upcoming harvest and how busy they were soon going to be, Sam listening intently to everything that entailed.

“We have to wake up way before the sun rises, like hours before!” Joseph was explaining. “But Ma makes us a big breakfast, sometimes with pancakes even!” He grinned at the thought of the treat while Sam considered that perhaps he should bring pancakes with him next time as he could have them prepared any time he liked.

“Well look what we have here boys, a few runts slacking off.”

The boys all sat up, startled at the new voice as they stared at the large, burly man standing in front of them with several thugs off to the side. “Bet we could use a few slaves in our market stock.” He sneered, pulling out his sword when several of the teenagers made a move to run for it. “You stay right there and I-” Suddenly, the man’s beady eyes were on Sam, wide as they seemed to be doubting what they saw and he slowly approached as if to get a better look. At this proximity, the creeping feeling of familiarity was rising in Sam’s stomach and instead of wondering how he knew the man, he desperately prayed the feeling wasn’t mutual.

“Oh boys,” The man grinned wickedly. “We’re gonna be making a pretty penny.”

Hands were suddenly on him before Sam could even blink, a sword to his throat as soon as he started to fight back which made him go limp. This was not good. No one knew where he was, his friends couldn’t alert the castle since they didn’t know who he was, and the only person who seemed connected to both sides was currently kidnaping him. “Not a sound.” His captor warned as he was tossed onto a horse, his hands bound and mouth gagged within seconds before they were off, the boys in the meadow disappearing with every stride.

 

....

 

Sam tried his best to get an idea for where they were going, his father’s instructions on navigation filtering through his mind but it was getting dark and they were riding so fast that everything was just turning into a black blur.

They rode for several hours, Sam’s hips starting to ache from the extended harsh riding since his captor had put him on the outside of the saddle. Dean had typically never allowed him to ride this long, his brother saying it was bad for him and was the reason Sam was still so short and hadn’t hit his growth spurt yet. He had kicked his brother over the comment and largely ignored it, but now that he was riding against his will the stupid warning was all he could think about. 

Just as a golden hue was settling on the leaves, the dense forest letting in a small amount of light through the treetops, they arrived at what looked to be an old monk house, the church frequently building them up out of mud and stone to make small rounded structures that housed the monks who were seeking enlightenment through isolation. He doubted there was a monk inside though, as the structure was lit up and several horses tied to the outside trees, his captors most likely coming upon the deserted cottage or taking it as their own. Their small group came to a halt and Sam was tossed off the side of the horse, stumbling as he tried to catch himself but with his legs still asleep from the ride he fell straight to the ground. Abruptly, he was grabbed and tossed over the shoulder of the familiar beady-eyed man who Sam assumed was the leader judging by his command of the others in the group and the casual way he entered the building. He once again cursed his small stature as he squirmed in the man’s grip, humiliated, and uncomfortable with being carried like this.

Sam was dropped in the corner of the room onto a pile of furs by the fire but the gag and ropes were left on as the three men joined the rest of the group already in the main room.

 “You see that, boys? You know who that is?” Beady-eyes grinned, sitting down and putting his boots up on the table. The group shook their heads, all eyeing Sam curiously, a few with a gaze more lust filled and made Sam’s skin crawl.

“Mmm, you get us a treat Corinth?” One of the men cooed, already starting to unbutton his pants. Sam’s eyes widened, backing up as he desperately looked for something to protect himself with until Corinth reached a hand over and knocked the man on the side of his head. “Don’t touch him you idiot, you know how much a virgin prince is worth?”

Sam started in confusion, ‘virgin prince’? The man had talked about selling him but was the best price he was going to get from a brothel? Sam had thought a political deal would have been a much more financially benefiting offer, especially with the war. There was also the small detail that he wasn’t a virgin and currently had a very firm fitting metal plug up his ass that had been specially made for him. Though he supposed it wasn’t like he was that well known in the kingdom. Sure he went on tours of the different territories with Dean but his brother and father were very much the face of the kingdom and much more memorable. Who cared about a scrawny fourteen-year-old who wasn’t ever going to rule or do much more than maybe marry some princess for political unity? His name was recognizable but in all his trips out of the kingdom by himself he had never once been recognized, as opposed to his brother who was practically mobbed the second he stepped out of the gates.

“We’re going to add him to our market trade in Impyerno next week, smuggle him in with the whore then give him to Azazel himself. For a price of course.” Ah, so it was going to be a little of both then. A political sex trade. 

Corinth grinned, walking over and crouching in front of Sam condescendingly before removing the gag with a teasingly pull. “What do you think little prince? Think you’ll enjoy Impyerno? Maybe you can wave to Daddy while you’re over there.” He cooed.

Sam glared back. “Or perhaps you can go shove your cock down your throat so as I don’t have to listen to your idiotic plans.” He snarked before gasping as his head was yanked back by his hair, throat jutting out. “Awww, little prince? Is that any way to talk to your new caretaker? Do you need to be taught a lesson on manners?” Corinth tutted, not waiting for an answer as he sat down on the furs and tugged Sam down over his lap, the rest of the man gathering to watch the show. "I would assume such things would be common place in that grand castle of yours, but my mistake." 

“What the hell-!” Sam shouted, squirming as his trousers were pulled down to his thighs, his bubbly ass on display for the room and making his face burn in humiliation. “You asshole!” He growled, still attempting to squirm away but Corinth had a firm grip on his hip, his large hand almost spanning the length of his back.

“Lets get a little preview of what’s gonna be happen’n in Impyero.” Corinth cooed, reaching down and spreading Sam’s ass only to gape in shock. “W-What-?” Sam couldn’t help but smirk at the confusion in his tone, wishing he could see Corinth’s face but taking just as much pleasure knowing he had thrown the thief off.

“What is this!” He growled. “You have to be a virgin- you can still be- it is just a plug correct? You are -“ The metal plug was abruptly pulled from his hole, the burning against his tender flesh making Sam wince but he wasn’t going to give Corinth the satisfaction of him making a sound.

“… no.”

Sam smirked into the furs as he felt the familiar sensation of come dripping out of his hole and down his ass, pushing out slightly so the come bubbled out. If he had to be in this position, he was at least going to have control over It. He was humiliated, touched, and forced to be here but he could control this at least. 

“What the fucking hell!”

Sam cried out as his hole was abruptly spanked, the tender skin clenching closed as he tried to squirm away. “I never said I was! This is your fault for thinking this would be that easy!” Sam argued, trying to reach down for his pants but his hand was roughly pushed away.

“You think this was a coincidence! We followed you from the castle! We were going to take the prince but then you most opportunistically put yourself in out path!” Corinth hand rained down mercilessly on his ass with each sentence, the man taking out his anger on the muscle.

“Your fucking brother decided to put my father on the execution line! My father!” He smacked his ass viciously, making Sam arch up in pain but he finally connected why the man looked familiar. Sam had sat in on the trial with his government tutor, taking notes on the murder case and stealing heated looks toward his brother. Dean looked amazing in the traditional regalia for court, his long deep red robes and thick band that wrapped around his head making him look even more dignified than usual. Dean had also spanked him afterward when they sneaked away to his bedroom but it was nothing like this. He did remember Corinth had been the outraged man who had stood up with several others and yelled at Dean, calling him a false prince as his brother simply looked at them coldly. Dean knew the purity of his blood and the strength of his lineage, he wasn’t going anywhere. Regardless, he still had murmured quietly into Sam’s hair that night how much he hated those comments. Hated the split second of doubt they gave him in his judgment.

“I’m going to deliver you to Azazel myself and watch as he strings you up with your father- “

There was suddenly the gasping of caught breath, the hand on Sam’s ass stilling as he looked up into the frozen eyes of Corinth, a sword jutting out of his neck before it jerked back and out of the body, the man falling to the stone floor with a hollow thump, blood bubbling out in thick spurts from his throat. 

Dean stood behind him, in light leather armor that hugged his broad chest and hips, eyes cold as they turned to the group of men watching in shock. Dean’s silent, predator like step forward seemed to push them back into motion and they scrambled for knives and any other weapon but it was useless, Dean picking them off one by one with smooth swings in a matter of minutes.  

It was over before it had really begun, Dean sheathing his sword despite the blood covering it which didn’t make any sense since Dean’s swords were his pride and joy and he needed to clean it or it would rust --  His thoughts were cut off by Dean dropping to his knees and pulling Sam in against his chest, hands tangling into the boy's dark curls as he pulled his brother into the safety of his chest, unable to do anything more than curl his body protectively around him and listen to Sam’s heart beat as his own slowed.

Sam was just starting to doze off against Dean’s chest, having been kept awake all night and was exhausted, when Dean pulled back and looked at him with fire in his eyes. “You headstrong, idiotic, child!” He shouted. “What the hell were you thinking Samuel? You think you can’t just run off whenever you like! You are a Prince! A Prince of Winchester! Do you not understand what that mean’s!”

Sam stared up at his brother tearfully, bowing his head in submission at his brother’s tone. “Yes, Sire.” He murmured. 

Dean froze, a lump forming in his throat. Sure they played around in bed and Dean was very much his brother’s dominant but Sam knew that they were equals. The signifier was a phrase used to put distance between himself and those below him and even though they said it teasingly to each other, Sam’s dropped pose meant he was very much not kidding. In the entire world there was only one person that knew and loved Dean completely and fully and that was Sam. It was not right for there to be any distance between them like this and Dean let some of his anger slip away as he knelt next to his brother.

“Sammy, stop this.” He murmured, moving his brother out of his submissive pose and into his lap. “Just- stop. I’m very angry with you and there will be a punishment but-“ He sighed, burying his face in Sam’s hair. “I was just so scared I was going to loose you. No one could find you and you know how I feel about you leaving by yourself. Then when we heard Corinth had been seen around the villages I knew exactly what had happened.” He growled, fingers tightening as he pulled Sam tighter against him, callused fingers digging into the soft flesh of his waist. 

Sam whimpered as he looked up at his brother, fear turning into arousal as he rocked slightly into his lap, trousers still pulled down to his thighs. “Oh, baby boy. Are you needing your King?” Dean growled, hands roughly running down Sam’s sides. As the future King, Dean was wildly possessive, traits John and encouraged in him since he was a baby but when Mary found out she was with child there was concern on how well the future King would get on with another sibling. Especially as there would be division to the King and Queen’s attention as well as most other things in the castle. Everyone had heard the horror stories of young first-born children killing their younger siblings in royal lines around the continent. Pushing babies into wells or even smothering them in their sleep. So it was with hesitation that baby Samuel was born on the second day of May and held out to Dean to hold, both parents staring in relief as Dean nuzzled his baby brother against his chest and possessively held him tight when anyone came to take him away. He only letting go when Sam started to cry for food and even then he climbed up onto the bed next to his Mother and watched as Sam hungrily nursed, reaching down to gently stroke his mop of dark hair.

The marks on Sam’s ass from the spanking seemed to spur Dean on and he quickly flipped him over onto the soft furs, gently leaning down to kiss and soothe his tongue over his bruising ass before starting to lick at his cherry pink hole. “You released my seed, Sammy? You know I like you to keep it inside you.” He growled, nipping at the rim of his hole as Sam cried out.

“I-I know, I- ah god- please Dean! Need you!” He whimpered, feeling the familiar drop of oil onto his ass, Dean rubbing the scented solution around his hole before starting to finger him, his hole still gaping from the plug but Dean was gifted in size and no matter how much he was fucked and stretched out he seemed to always stay tight when it came to Dean's endowment.

The blunt head of his brother’s cock was suddenly at Sam’s hole and he tried to relax, letting it slid in as Dean massaged his stomach, hands easing Sam backward onto his thick cock despite his brother squirming. “Dean,” He keened, legs kicking out as he struggled to take the massive length inside of him, already feeling completely stuffed and knowing he was only a quarter of the way down. Dean just kept up his encouragements, rubbing his stomach and kissing at his neck as he tried to get him to relax. “Too tight for me baby, you need to take a deep breath.’ He cooed into his ear, soothing circles being rubbed on his hipbone.

Sam nodded, trying to relax and control his breathing. He focused on the pleasure and how good it would feel when Dean was all the way inside, the burning stretch and too big fullness that always pushed him over the edge- He screamed as Dean yanked him down, ass swallowing up his cock to the base once Sam had loosened slightly.

“There we go, perfect for me. Taking me so well.” Dean murmured into his ear, breath warm and wet as he started to shallowly thrust into the tight heat, banging right against Sam’s prostate.

“Too much- yes! Yes! Oh god!” Sam cried, lost between the pleasure and pain as his stomach bulged with Dean’s cock.  
  
"That’s it, fuck Sam. Love you so much sweetheart. My good baby boy. Beautiful little brother. Always gonna pound this tight little ass, nothing else. Just gonna keep you right here…” Dean babbled, lost in the motions as he ran his mouth.

Sam couldn’t take it anymore and with a final push against his sweet spot he came, spilling his thin seed all over the furs as Dean just kept pounding him, soothing the younger boy when Sam started to whine at how sore he was. “Shh, be good for me, darling.”

He lifted Sam up so Dean could thrust harder and deeper, keeping the boy’s legs spread as he pounded him at an unforgiving rhythm, Sam in tears as he shook through a second orgasm, Dean coming soon after, sighing in relief as he filled Sam up to the brim with his come. He had the boy suck the plug to wet it again before easing it back in, smiling in satisfaction at the sight. “Good boy.”

 

 

 


	2. Part 2

Sam yawned tiredly as he turned away from the bright light and snuggled deeper into Dean’s chest, his brother’s arms wrapping tighter around him on reflex. He blinked awake lazily, glaring at the crack of light coming in through the curtains. Ruby must not have closed them all the way and as a result, he was up much earlier than he planned. It had been two weeks since the kidnapping and similar situations were popping up all over the kingdom, the guard force desperately trying to find a way to protect against the thieves who were smuggling everything from young men for slavery to entire crops for supplies into Infyerno, an entire criminal network system starting to form. Dean just hopped word on how close the lowlifes had been to taking Sam wouldn’t get out. There didn’t need to be any new ideas on how to attack Dean or the kingdom to surface or for Azazel to decide to make the kidnapping of the youngest prince a priority.

Dean had the afternoon off and they were going to spend it lazing about together, plans to even take a dip in the pond if the weather kept. It had been an eternity since Dean had a good portion of free time and the two were going to make the most of it. The war was raging on and the longer it lasted the more time it preoccupied of Dean’s, his brother constantly in meetings and signings, talking with advisers or consulting with the potential aids. He was amazing and an inspiring ruler but Sam missed his brother. He wasn’t even allowed out anymore, not that he technically was before but Dean had usually turned a blind eye to his wanderings. That leniency was not the case anymore and Dean was serious about the guards keeping a watchful eye on him.

“Dean,” Sam whined, nudging his shoulder. If he had to be up might as well wake the Prince. “Deeeean.”

“Whaa? S’my?” Dean yawned, blinking down at him blearily before turning back into the fluffy down feather pillows and dragging Sam with him, the younger boy soon trapped under Dean’s large frame. “Dean! I can’t breathe!” Sam whined, making exaggerated gasping sounds as his brother pressed down into him. “You’re too heavy!” He kicked his legs out but was useless, too short to catch on the velvet curtains that framed the bed and pulled them down like he wanted.

“Don’t wake your big brother up before the sun’s even properly risen then.” Dean yawned, rolling off of him and to the side but kept an arm around Sam’s waist.

Sam whined into his neck but settled when Dean started to rub down his back, fingers massaging at his shoulder before moving down to his ass, lightly kneading the firm muscle before traveling back up. “Shh, Sammy.” Dean murmured. “Just rest, mm?”

Ruby brought breakfast in an hour later, the young woman not batting an eye at the sleeping arrangement, Dean curled completely around his brother with their legs tangled and hips pressed flush together. All six of their direct personal staff were permanent fixtures and sworn to privacy in the Winchester name. Only they were allowed in the private wing of the castle without specific invitation and knew of the relationship between the brothers. This included the three rotating guards that attended the King’s bedroom and the personal servant’s.

“Good morning,” She stated, throwing open the curtains without a care for the angry groans that came from the bed. She moved the breakfast tray into position on the small eating table next to the soft couches in the corner, setting out orange juice, oatmeal, fresh bread, and a bowl of fruit before smoothing out two cloth napkins and placing down silverware. “Breakfast is served your Highness’s.” She stated before leaving the room in a swish of her aproned skirt.

Sam groaned but the smell of the fresh bread was pushing him to get up and eat so he stumbled out of bed and over to the food, Dean following a moment later and immediately stealing all the honey for his own oatmeal just to get an annoyed groan from Sam.

...

By the time the walked down to the gardens the sun was high in the sky, it’s warmth pleasant against Sam’s skin as he wore only his trousers and a light silk shirt, Dean in a similar fashion. They stopped at their favorite apple tree, one they had climbed countless times as children and still favored it over any others for its wide branches and shade. “When do you think father will allow me to stop with this intensity of study?” Sam murmured, lazily watching the gardeners trim the rose bushes on the edge of their monstrous pond.

“Never?” Dean murmured, taking a large bite of his apple as he leaned against the trunk, shoes kicked off in favor of spreading his toes in the earthy grass. “Until you turn eighteen I suppose. Three more years isn’t that long when you think of all the benefit’s it will bring you.”

Sam scowled. “What sort of benefits? Making me more desirable to marry off?” he grumbled, flicking off a mosquito. “I’m not leaving, Dean.”

“I know, and no you aren’t. I meant in terms of usefulness to the kingdom politically. Perhaps when I take the throne I’ll let you be my assistant.” He teased, nudging him with his foot. “Fetch me my quill, Samuel!”

Sam rolled his eyes fondly and nudged him back. “Bobby says I can stay and become an adviser if I prove my worth to the counsel.”

“You already have worth Sammy, nothing to prove.” Dean murmured, letting his fingers brush over Sam’s thinner digits. They couldn’t be freely affectionate, even in the seeming empty space with the gardeners distracted. One guard catching a glimpse or a visiting council member passing by a window could result in a massive civilian upheaval which was the last thing they needed. They were fighting a very taxing and straining war which required the support of the people, not them banding together over trying to overthrow their incestuous future King. There was no one else to take the throne who was a direct descendant besides himself and Sam and if they were overthrown the pure Winchester line would be destroyed.

Sam turned to respond when suddenly a messenger was running through the gardens, face bright red in exhaustion as he held a folded letter upwards in his hand, skidding to a halt and passing it to Dean. “E-Emergency correspondence from the front lines, Sire. Direct to the Prince were the orders.”

Dean frowned, nodding at the messenger to rest as he opened the letter and started to read, hands suddenly fisting into the parchment halfway through. “Dean?” Sam asked in concern, “What”s wrong?

Dean kept the letter gripped in his fist, shaking as he lowered his hand and looked down at Sam, opening his mouth before closing it, seeming at a loss for words before finally he managed to get out. “Father’s dead.”

Sam stared in shock, his body going cold at news. It wasn't surprising but at the same time no amount of preparedness could actually brace you for the loss of a parent, the realization that he would never see his father again. He had wanted Sam to work on his knots for when he came back, said he was going to test what he had learned. He had spent a whole two weeks trying to master all the knots in the stupid book in their library and now he’d never get to show him. “D-Dean?” Sam asked softly.

His brother looked pale, seeming to be rereading the death statement over and over again but Sam knew that his brother had to move quickly. If John was dead it left Winchester without a king and an absent leader on the front lines. Knight Michael was the King’s second in command on the battlefield and would surely take over but that could only last for so long. They were vulnerable, especially if Azazel would be receiving word that John had been killed. “Dean,” Sam said firmly, pushing back his sadness and fear in favor or supporting his brother. “You need to take the throne.”

Dean shook his head, dropping the paper as he grabbed Sam and hugged him close, not knowing what else to do. As much as he had prepared and was ready the thought of actually becoming king was mind boggling and so … so permeant.

“Dean,” Sam cupped his brother’s face, forcing the older boy to look at him. “You’re ready. You’ve been training for this and know everything you need to. You were born to be king, it’s in your blood.” He rested his hand over Dean’s heart. “You have the Winchester birthright.” He murmured, stroking small circles over the skin. “Father believed in you and knew you were ready when he made you Standing Prince. Azazel has no idea what’s coming for him.” He said fiercely. “They all think this new Prince is weak and inexperienced but they don’t know you’ve been running the kingdom for four years and know exactly what you’re doing. You can do this Dean.” Sam promised, gripping his brother’s hand tightly.

Dean stared down at his beautiful baby brother, Sam’s eyes holding nothing but faith in him and Dean never let down Sammy. His face hardened in determination as he nodded and stood up, chin held high as he walked with purpose to the main entrance and up the steps to the council to deliver the news.

 

...

 

“Stop fidgeting.”

“I’m not, be quiet.”

“You are and it’s rattling the entire bench.”

Dean’s hand came down to rest on Sam’s knee, stilling his restless movements. The long wooden bench they were seated on was at the very front of the large cathedral, the entire church filled to capacity with people and large crowds waiting outside. While John might not have been the most present father he had been an amazing and loved King, the entire Capital of Winchester and the surrounding Nations seeming to have come to pay their respects.

The casket was raised up on a wooden platform for the entire hall to see as the priest droned on about John’s new home in the heavens with God and the other great warriors of the past. Dean though John would probably prefer to be with their mother but didn’t comment. Retrieving the body had been a challenge but the late King's dedicated men had come through, their loyalty to their king even in death knowing no bounds. Dean found it inspiring and knew he had a large legacy to live up to.

The casket was soon draped in the rich purple robes of John’s chosen shade, the same Mary had been wrapped in when she had been laid to rest.

Sam stared hollowly as he watched the casket be covered, feeling cold and hollow. He wasn’t going to cry, had only given in to his emotions once since the news and it had been in the privacy of Dean’s arms in their bedroom. He adjusted the dark black mourning robes against his legs, trying not to fidget as he knew Dean was right, he was shaking the entire bench. Dean’s hand on his shoulder interrupted his fidgeting, his brother urging him to stand and walk up to the platform. He tried his best to simply not trip as they made their way through the memorized routine they had gone over that morning.

They each placed a white lily on the top of the casket before moving to stand next to the priest. Dean stood tall and regal, though Sam could see the cracks in his facade. He was being what the kingdom needed. In their time of mourning he would stand strong. He wasn’t even king yet and he was already thinking like one, Sam couldn't be more proud.

The entire congregation rose and they sang a hymn as John’s casket was removed and taken onto the royal carriage. It would be taken to the ocean on the west end of Campbell and be burned in the same place as their mother had been. Traveling that far and to the edges of the Nation wasn’t an option for the royal family at this time and even though it stung to not be there for the tradition Sam and Dean both knew it was for the best. They would be represented well through the vast crowds that would surely gather.

With a heavy heart, Sam followed Dean into their separate carriage, this one directed back toward the castle. Once the doors were closed and locked and they passed through the thick crowds, Sam watched as his brother’s face unraveled, the young boy mourning the passing of his father finally appearing. “He’d be very proud, Dean.” Sam said seriously, moving over to his brother’s bench and leaning into him, taking a tight hold on his hand. "You were perfect."

“Just three more days.” Dean murmured, resting his chin on Sam’s head. There was a required morning period of three days for the entire kingdom. All black to be worn at all times and the general mood was increasingly somber. Typically, there was a waiting period of around a month after but they would be breaking tradition and having the coronation on the fourth day. Sam wished they could space it out somehow, Dean’s coronation should be a time of celebration and joy but with this close to a death he doubted it would seem anything but required.

“When is your crown fitting?” Sam murmured, tracing over Dean’s knuckles. “I should go with you since mine still doesn’t fit.” He grumbled, trying to pull his brother’s focus to more light-hearted matters since everything these days seemed to be life and death. “Lydia told me that I would grow into it and I still haven’t. That was three years ago.” He said pointedly as Dean cracked a smile. “She thought you would grow but obviously you proved her wrong, stuborn like always.” Sam scowled at the comment but happily nuzzled into his brother’s chest when Dean pulled him closer.

…

The three days passed slowly, the entire castle in deep mourning and all black seeming to cover everything. Sam hated the clothes, especially in the warm weather, but tolerated them in respect for his father memory. He spent a lot of time contemplating his father’s legacy as well as his future with Dean. He knew that with Dean taking the throne the pressure to marry and produce the next line of Winchester born heirs would be suffocating and Sam wasn’t exactly sure how they would get around that requirement.

Dean had to produce an heir.

It was their duty above else to keep Winchester’s ruling Campbell in Winchester. The thought’s surrounding those options were even more depressing so Sam tried his best to simply think of his father in a pleasant light and not delve too deeply into worries of the future. Their immediate problem was the war and that needed to be dealt with first. Revenge for their Mother and now their Father would come soon, Sam could feel the change in the war. No more were the battles happening distantly, the effects were reaching back home and he was afraid Azazel himself might even make himself known here in Winchester. He just prayed that Dean and himself would be prepared for when that day came.

However, Sam was beyond ready for the day of the coronation, the heaviness of the mourning period was starting to become more depressing than soothing. Though, the abrupt change from mourning to celebration was a bit more jarring than he could have suspected. As much as he wanted it to be a celebration for his brother, it felt almost disrespectful to be enjoying themselves.

“How many people are invited?” Sam asked in shock as he looked over the guest list. Dean hummed contently, thrusting up slightly into Sam and making his stomach bulge. “Uh- a thousand- maybe more?” He offered, looking over his own list of food preparations he had to approve. Sam frowned, turning the page on the list as he adjusted himself on Dean’s cock, currently warming his brother’s member as they both looked over preparations for the large celebration held after the coronation. “There are a lot of woman on here. At least half are single which is unusual.” He said pointedly.

Dean shrugged. “You know what’s coming as well as I do, Sam. They can’t match make me as often as they would like with the war going on so they’re going to get it in as much as they can when the moment is appropriate.”

...

 

Finally, the day arrived with Sam just wishing the entire thing would be over quickly, having not gotten a moment alone with Dean in more than a fortnight. His morning plans were also ruined with Ruby arriving bright and early to personally wash and trim his hair, nothing allowed to be less than perfect on such a historic day. Dean was being prepared in a special chamber with a priest, a tradition going back to the very origins of the Winchester line and Sam knew he had no chance of seeing his brother until the ceremony. Instead, he spent an incredibly dull morning staying out of the way and not soiling his golden robes as he walked out in the gardens.

The coronation would be taking place at the same cathedral as the funeral and the same carriages arrived promptly to bring everyone over, Sam ending up with several ancient looking woman who he was related to in some abstract way and spent the entire time gossiping over which princess’s hand Dean would be taking. The conversation did nothing for Sam and he stressed even more for his brother as well as the anger at their predicament.

His arrival was met with trumpets blaring and the general bow for a royal figure from the large crowds of commoners that had gathered outside, everyone wanting to be apart of the excitement. In what seemed like no time at all he was ushered to the front of the cathedral to stand next to the priest, having the honor of holding the coat of arms but all Sam cared about was it got him close to his brother. Soon everyone was seated and the familiar ceremonial music began to play but all that quieted when Dean appeared in the doorway. He looked amazing in his deep red and gold robes, his prince's crown glittering on his head for the last time as he slowly descended from the wings with his advisers and took a seat at the grand throne, sparing a lingering gaze Sam’s way before turning forward. Sam smiled, warmed and relaxed by even such minimal contact and turned back to the congregation, proud of his brother as well as to stand at his side at such an important moment for their country as well as in Dean’s life.

“Dean of Winchester.” The priest's voice rang out in the hall, the name suddenly bearing much more power than Sam had ever heard before and the realization that everything was about to change hit him so hard he staggered. This moment was the last Dean would ever just be his brother, Sam’s and Sam’s alone. As soon as that crown sits upon his head he is owned by his country and people, forced by duty and status to make choices that will not always lend themselves to his heart. They were in a situation that would and could never be ordained by god or the country and thereby was unfit for a king. Sam was unfit for his newly crowned brother.

He took a deep breath as he looked out at the masses that filled the church pews and to the doors that he knew were closed upon thousands of their loyal citizens, citizens who trusted Dean to lead them through this war.

Sam could not deny them his brother.

He squared his shoulders and held his head up high, proud of the man sitting on the throne in front of him and the King he already was. It was Sam’s first and foremost duty to respect and support the crown and he would willingly follow through. He would give his life for his brother and now that act would be expected of him.

The priest came forward and lifted up the bejeweled crown that John and four Winchesters had worn before him. The pristine gold crafting and intricate ancient engraving shined in the streaming light from the stained glass windows, the crown having been polished for hours the night before. The holy man raised his arms high, bones trembling with age but his grip was firm and powerful as he started the ceremonial oath, Dean agreeing to each as he was asked, his voice deep and calm.

"Will you solemnly promise and swear to govern the people of this Kingdom of Winchester, and the dominions thereto belonging, according to the statutes in Parliament agreed on, and the laws and customs of the same?"

Dean kept his eyes steady on the crown as he nodded, “I solemnly promise so to do."

“Will you to the utmost of your power maintain the Laws of God and the true profession of the Gospel? Will you to the utmost of your power maintain in the Religion established by law? Will you maintain and preserve inviolably the settlement of the many branches of belief, culture, spirituality, and the doctrine, worship, discipline, and government thereof, as by law established in Winchester? And will you preserve unto the Bishops and Clergy of Winchester, and to the Churches there committed to their charge, all such rights and privileges, as by law do or shall appertain to them or any of them?”

“All this I promise to do.” Dean vowed before standing and making his way to the alter in front of the people, the crown being lowered onto his head. He cleared his throat, Sam reading the otherwise unnoticeable signs that his brother was overwhelmed. His feet twitched slightly as he knelt and his fingers kept rocking back for his left pocket, and obvious move to grab his sword handle that helped to ground and calm with a sense of control. He squared his shoulders after only a moment of hesitation, standing before the congregation as he looked out at them, understanding the weight of what he was undertaking.

“The things which I have here before promised, I will perform and keep. So help me God.” His voice boomed in the cathedral, never giving away his nerves as he proved his worthiness to wear the crown above him.

The last nail on the coffin was hammered, and with an anointment from the priest, Dean was the newly crowned king of Winchester, holding up their lineage through five generations.

All was quiet in the pews until Dean stood and the guard came forward to salute, their swords raising for Dean to walk through and once he reached the end the entire church erupted into cheers and applause, the support and hope for the new King overreaching. Sam just grinned from his place next to the priest, clapping as loud as he could as he watched his brother descend the stairs to greet the people. When the doors opened the commotion was almost deafening, Dean walking out to make his appearance before his guards started to lead him back to the carriage to take him back to the castle, the festivities of a coronation holding a very tight schedule and the King would need to be apart of it all.

“He’s very dedicated, I do believe he will make a fine king. You can see the fire in his eyes, same as his grandfather.” The priest remarked to Sam as he cleaned up the holy oil, Sam coming out of his thoughts to realize most everyone else had followed Dean out of the church and were now boarding the carriages to make their way to the castle for the ball. It was strange, the cathedral seeming much smaller without the masses inside.

“Yes, I’ve always known he would be. He takes it very seriously.” Sam shrugged, moving forward to help fold the table white silk tablecloth. There were plenty of carriages and the priest looked like he could use some help so hd figured he could linger.

“Do you have a knife on your possession, Samuel? These wax drippings are always difficult to remove.” Sam nodded and reached into the inner pocket of his robes and pulled out his small dagger, passing it over to the priest who hunched across the floor toward the incense and large burning candles.

“It’s difficult though, you understand?” He continued, easily slicing off the chunks of melted wax at the base of the candles despite his shaky hands. “Devoting your life to such a divine cause as the monarchy.” The elderly man murmured wisely as he blew out several candles on the large silver holders. His voice was much softer, feeble in this conversation compared to the grand spectacle Sam had just witnessed him perform.

“Yes, I do.” Sam frowned, wondering what the man was going on about as he was a royal himself and quite obviously witnessed what the weight of the crown could do on his family. “But I know it is worth it for many. The responsibility brings many rewards.”

“For many? You do not believe your brother is included in the group that reaps the rewards for which they sow on the throne.” It wasn’t a question and Sam suddenly felt warm.

“No- Of course he deserves it. I was referring to my father untimely death and how sudden- I’m positive Dean believes the crown is worth everything.” He cleared his throat, watching as another piece of chopped wax fell to the ground, wondering why the priest wasn’t picking them up.

“The two of you have always been incredibly close, if anyone would recognize Dean’s preparedness or lack thereof it would be you, Samuel.”

“… I suppose.” He said slowly, feeling as if he was being accused of something. “And with that as your judgment I assure you that Dean is completely prepared to take on the crown.”

The priest nodded as blew out and sliced off the wax of another candle, a small trailing of smoke following him as he made his way across the wall. “It isn’t just the crown though, is it?”

Sam was quiet, losing what little following of this conversation he had. “It isn’t, father?”

“No Samuel, it’s not. We have a war to win, a war that might very well bring about the enslavement of all of Campbell without the proper steps being taken. Dean is an experienced warrior and I have been told of his skills in strategy and combat. John insisted that the fight needed to be kept as far away from Campbell- from Winchester as possible, which was good and well. However, the time for fighting battles in unknown lands has passed, we need to find an end to this and the only way to do so is to bring the war here. To encourage the people and even the monarchy to act.”

Sam stared at the priest in utter confusion, not following his apparent war plan. “In all due respect, Father. Isn’t this something you should be talking about with Dean? Or any of the advisers?”

The priest nodded slowly, Sam’s dagger still gripped in his hand. “Yes, but I do think actions might encourage his response much quicker than any number of meetings might. You see as much as Dean will be a good King, he is still doubtful of his abilities. Will want to follow what his father had started. Will want to be close to you.” He shook his head. “I think this way will get around several of those problems.”

Sam stared, dread starting to creep up as his eyes flickered to the knife, feeling as if the priest was going to make a lunge at him. The older man apparently caught on to his thoughts and laughed, setting the dagger on the table. “Don’t be dense, Samuel.”

Before Sam could respond, hands were covering his mouth and rope was being wrapped around his arms and legs, his thrashing doing nothing to deter them. “I think this will encourage him quite well, remember you have a duty as well, Samuel. Don’t shy away from it.”

Sam glared, trying to scream and bite against the hand over his mouth but they were too strong and the now empty church seemed to mock him as he looked desperately for an escape. The priest approached, his dagger raised and for a second Sam tensed, thinking the man was about to stab him but relaxed when only his hair was grabbed and pulled, a chunk being sheared off with the knife. “Yes, this will do nicely.” He told to Sam’s unseen attackers before waving them off. “Your leader knows where you will find payment.”

The fact that not only had the priest encouraged these thugs to kidnap him but that he was paying them to do so outraged Sam as he kicked harder, terrified and what was going on but even more so on what Dean might do in his absence.

His spinning thoughts was quickly silenced when a dark bag slipped over his head and the world when dark.

 

  


End file.
